Bliss was sympathetic. After all, she had been bereaved herself. She nodded gently.

The elderly woman drew in a brave and quivering breath. “Nonetheless, one must go on, mustn’t one? Tell me, my dear young woman, have you any references to show me?”

Bliss dropped her eyes for a moment, then brought them firmly back to Mrs. Wilmington’s face. “No, ma’am,” she said. “I’ve never worked, except for my father. He’s a lighthouse keeper, near Wellington, and I used to help him.”

Mrs. Wilmington permitted herself a stiff nod. “That would do little to fit you for a lady’s companion, of course,” she pointed out.

Bliss wasn’t willing to be termed unfit for a job any half-wit could do. She favored the old woman with her most dazzling smile. “What would be required of me, please?” she asked sweetly.

A serving girl brought Bliss’s breakfast and set it before her as Mrs. Wilmington answered, “Why, of course you’d be expected to accompany me about the ship and tend to my clothing.” She paused. “And to read to me, of an evening. My eyes aren’t what they used to be, you know.”

Bliss said nothing. If she didn’t swallow a few bites of her breakfast, her stomach would be grumbling in another minute.

Mrs. Wilmington watched her curiously for a moment, then asked, “Have you fallen upon difficult circumstances, my dear? I was certain you told me you were employed by a gentleman and his wife—”

Bliss nodded, barely able to keep from laughing out loud. She didn’t know which was funnier: hearing Jamie called a gentleman or Mrs. Wilmington’s obvious conviction that her prospective companion was a starvation case.

The lie sprang easily to her lips, as lies will when they’ve been told before. “Yes. I am Mrs. McKenna’s maid.”

The old woman’s cold blue eyes swept over Bliss, taking in her neat coronet of cinnamon-colored hair and the simple blouse she’d ferreted out of her satchel to wear for the occasion, along with her tweed skirt. “Something about your story doesn’t ring true, miss,” she said briskly. “Nonetheless, I like you.”

“Thank you.” Bliss was ashamed to be telling such outrageous stories, and she longed to spill out the whole disgraceful truth about herself, but she didn’t dare. If Mrs. Wilmington ever suspected that she was married, the position would be irrevocably lost.

“I’ll expect a written reference, then, from your Mrs. McKenna. Just have it sent to Room Thirty-six, please.”

Bliss’s heart had stopped beating, and she nearly choked on the food she’d been chewing, not only because she was supposed to deliver a letter of recommendation but because Jamie had just entered the dining room with a group of gentlemen.

Even though his clothes provided a rough contrast to the suits and vests his companions wore, he wasn’t the least bit self-conscious. In fact, Bliss noted irritably, the other men seemed to defer to him.

“Are you all right, Miss Stafford?” Minerva Wilmington demanded, looking stern. Evidently, she would not tolerate anything less.